Ragnar looks out across the wilds from the palisades, Brother Norri to his side.
So it begins. Come tomorrow I'll truly begin my conquest. Taking with sword what I will and forging a new kingdom from the ashes of the old.
Ragnar feels excitement. The coming battle, true adventure. Conquest!
"Brother Norri, I have a good feeling of this. We will wait at those tables, looking as inconspicuous as possible. Perhaps Ciri can wait alongside the inside of the palisade, when the bandits enter she can quickly bar the exit. Subotai atop the roof, or maybe up here above the entrance. We can win this. They won't expect any resistance and if we get the element of surprise on them it'll be sealed. I'll be honest Brother... I'm not sure about the beginning of the attack... Do we wait for them to make their intentions known? Do we attempt to jail them and send them in for justice? That would only make it more difficult to succeed...."
Ragnar stares out as the sunlight dies behind the treeline, his face turning grim.
"No, we know their intent and when they are in our trap we spring it. They are bandits, they've made their choice. Subotai will fire the first arrow as soon as we stand, Ciri will lock the gate and the battle will be begun. We will make an example of these bandits, none will attempt to harass this post again."
And in doing so, we'll have made our first foothold in the Stolen Lands.
Ciri nearly dances with delight after the tour. "Look how many places there are here for ambush and crossfire and... oh, it's lovely. Can we take down the tarp over the tables, Oleg? It will interfere with archery should they take shelter there."
Ragnar's remark about jail earns him an amazed look, which turns to relief as he convinces himself of the necessity of taking life. "We should stick their heads on the palisades once this is over. Maybe the rest will take a hint and begone. If not, well - we need to be prepared for retaliation. Probably by fire. That's what I would do."
"Aye, fire... that would do the trick wouldn't it."
The sun finally making its last hurrah dipping below the horizon, the light fleeing over the treetops.
"We should get some sleep. I'm not entirely sure when the bandits will be arriving and I'd rather not have them catch me with my head on the pillow. Good night Ciri, see you in the morning."
Ragnar walks along the palisade and into the room he shares with Arielle. At the sound of the door opening she turns over.
"Little One. Tomorrow there will be some bad men coming to the trading post. You have nothing to fear, myself and some of the others staying here will take care of them. You however need to stay bundled up in bed away. I don't want any accidents and who knows what would happen if they found you. I won't hear anything against it now go to bed."
Ragnar sits in a chair in the corner, running the whetstone along his weapons. First his axe, the knicks and cuts being smoothed and sharpened. Then his bastard sword, the oil fresh along the blade. He finishes with his small belt dagger and nods off in the chair.
She crooks a long finger at poor Grub. "You. With me. Help me find a good hidey-hole, maybe outside the palisade?
Almost Ciri's finger used a spell to draw him forward, Grub hops up and runs up to Ciri. It is obvious he is desperate to please the pretty woman.
"Ol' Grubbins knows all kind of hidey holes in the woods. No nasty bandits will get us there." When Grub realizes that Ciri doesn't mean a "hiding place" he looks a tad deflated. "Oh...if you're looking to actually fight," Grub looks as if this is a really stupid idea, than you might find hiding up on one of the catapult towers is a good spot. Higher up and if you need to, you can get behind the ruined weapon for cover."
"You're going to fight with us, aren't you cutie?" Ciri asks Grub coaxingly, "You can get high up and behind a ruined weapon for cover."
After the tour and strategy discussions, Oleg and Svetlana serve dinner to the adventurers. A rich stew of herbs, potatoes, carrots and large hunks of wild pig just melts in their mouths. It is definitely one of the better meals any of the adventurers has had in a great while. Svetlana has made bread with a slightly sour taste and has homemade butter for spreading.
Conversation is light-hearted and shies away from the impending confrontation. Norri tells some rousing tales of dwarven heroics and war. He remembers to keep it mostly safe as the young orphan girl sits nibbling her bread wide-eyed at his accounts. His stories have everyone cheering as the mighty dwarves overcome some terrible dangers. Grub is quite the comedian, and many of his short anecdotes are merely slightly extended jokes. Some are quite ribald, and Grub looks slyly at Ciri while Svetlana blushes and admonishes him. Oleg chuckles to see his wife slightly discomfited. Grib does tell some silly stories of daring halflings outwitting the taller races which has the little girl laughing the way only a child can. The sound has a subtle effect on the group as it emphasizes the promise of the future and the importance of making it safe. Subotai, on the other hand, has but a single story of wild fantasy and invention which he tells in a soft voice that somehow conveys the intrigue and suspense of a group of nobles trapped at a party with assassins hidden amongst them. Forced to play a game of death for the amusement of the party's host, the story surprisingly turns out to be one of love, perseverance, and wits. Towards the end of the story, the child has climbed into a rather surprised Ragnar's lap, and begun to nod off, her teddy bear Bubbles clutched in her arms.
By this time the group has migrated around the fire pit where Oleg had been cooking the wild pig. Subotai has quietly excused himself citing personal ablutions to perform and entered his room. Svetlana likewise has gone to bed, but whether she can sleep as the next day approaches is anyone's guess. Unexpectedly, Grub offers to take the sleeping girl
to Ragnar's room, and he lifts her small form with a tenderness that seems surprising. He smiles down at her as she makes a noise in her sleep before carrying her into the boarding house.
Around the firepit now, bellies full and cups of ale in their hands sits Ragnar, Ciri, Norri, and Oleg. A lull in the conversation has come about as the four barely hear the soft tread of the halfing ranger carrying the dreaming girl up the boarding house's steps. The fire crackles and adds heat to the slight chill of the spring night. Oleg shifts his feet and casts a glance at Ragnar like he wants to say something. Then he eyes the others and chooses instead to take a sip from his cup, a curious expression on his face.
Ciri is openly astonished when the child appears, but says nothing. She eats and drinks sparingly and rather quietly, stealing glances at the little girl from time to time and laughing at Grub's antics. She's again astonished when the girl climbs into Ragnar's lap but maintains her silence about the matter until the group size diminishes.
Ciri sips her ale and chuckles. "I can't believe you were worried about me slowing you down when you have a child in tow, Ulfen. Surely you're not bringing the little girl into the wild with us, are you?"
"I... have not decided. I don't mean to no, but she needs a safe place to stay. When we've dealt with the bandits maybe this post could be a haven for her while we tame the lands. That would be best. Oleg? Would that be possible, could you and your wife watch her for me? I will pay for her room and such. I'm sure she could be handy around the post if she wanted to be. The Wilds are no place for her to be wandering."
Ciri shakes her head. "No offense, but poor Oleg and his wife are put upon by bandits and there's no guard nor law here. She's probably safer with us than just about anywhere else out here. Besides... " Ciri shakes her head and shrugs.
At Ragnar's question, Oleg seems a little surprised, but as Ciri interjects, Oleg scowls and says, "Aye, Svetlana would allow it of course, but I admit if you wished to be sure she was safe..." Oleg looks troubled. "Well, I...I don't know if it would be such a good idea."
Oleg takes a long sip from his cup, then realizing it's now empty scowls again.
"Lana...she didn't tell you everything you should know. She doesn't like to talk about them, and she wanted me to discuss it with you." Oleg looks very uncomfortable.
"If there's something we should know, best to get it out in the open," Ciri says suspiciously.
"Ciri, surely a trading post with walls, would be safer than wading through the woods and into danger, which make no mistake, is where we are heading. After, we deal with this bandit problem."
"Oleg, speak plainly. What are we to know."
Oleg looks at his empty cup with a sour expression, visibly wrestling with whatever is on his mind. After a moment of this, Norri grabs the cask of his own ale and brings it over to the merchant's cup.
"This'll feel yur belly wit da fire o' da dwarves and empty yur 'ead of da voice o' fear! Trust me!" Norri smiles encouragingly at Oleg as he fills the man's cup. Oleg grunts, but it's obvious he appreciates the gesture. He takes a small mouthful and swishes it around. Swallowing it, Oleg nods approvingly. Suddenly he begins coughing furiously. Norri roars with laughter and claps the man's back.
Oleg waves the dwarf off as the coughs subside, and then shakes his head vigorously with wide eyes. "Whew!" It comes out rather hoarsely at first. "Hmm...Ahem! Mmm! Okay, well Master Norri, I can see what you mean." Oleg sets the cup down next to him, and then he gives his head another shake. He face reverts back to serious and eying the rest of them, he takes a deep breath.
"There...are these folk. Unsavory types all of 'em. For just about the last 8 months, seems like a pair or more come through here asking if we've seen a little girl who seems a little...different," Oleg trails off not meeting Ragnar's eye. "I don't know if it be your wee one, but...while you were sleeping, Lana..." Oleg takes a deep breath. "Lana swears she saw the girl doing magicks and sorcerous stuff. Stuff even those born to it don't show until their older...much older." Oleg cautiously sips at the cup of dwarven ale.
"They're all rough looking and some have the air of priests, but none of gods that I would pray to if you take my meaning," Oleg says. "I know we would do our best to keep her, but if they should showed up and we had no warning." Oleg shook his head. "I doubt we'd be able to stop them from taking her if she's the one they're after. Not that I wouldn't try." Oleg grimaces and he looks at his empty hand, an expression of helpless regret crosses his features.
"And then there's the Others..." Oleg shudders.
Ragnar looks at him with a cool eye. Priests? Searching for the girl... Interesting
"Yes... continue, what Others?"
"The Others...since we don't know how else to call them. Sometimes one seems to accompany the bandits. Other times, no. And every now and again we see one or two of them come through on some mission, and they stop to resupply here." Oleg is noticeably nervous. "They are all some kind of religious zealots...I think," Oleg says uncertainly.
"Mebbe it's just me spreading gossip, but there is something not right about them...a strange...aura if you will. They are always so quiet...so deadly. Grub says he's seen them out in the wild. They don't hesitate to kill...or enslave."
Ciri's eyes glint in the firelight as she chuckles. "No law enforcement and a lot of people needing some respect for others smacked into them. This sounds like fun!" She leans back, resting her elbows behind her on the plank table and stretching her long legs out towards the fire, ankles crossed casually. Looking around the outpost, she nods with satisfaction. "I think I'm going to like it here."
"Oleg, I understand your meaning. Maybe for now I will keep Arielle close. Until we establish ourselves and order into these lands. Maybe then I can get her somewhere safe. Ciri.... This may be quite fun indeed" A gleam passes across his eyes.
"Alright then. Let's get to sleep, unless anyone has anything else to say?"
"I wish it were already tomorrow," Ciri sighs, "This is just like Orcmas Eve. I could never sleep as a kid."
She rises and stretches to the stars. "Oleg, do you have a spare bed somewhere? I don't need much. Or I could sleep in the stable."
Oleg grunts at the question. He pulls a keyring out of a pocket and fumbles with it for a moment. He chooses one and walks over to where Ciri is sitting. She can see his somewhat sour expression at having to give her the key without any payment for the night's lodging.
Oleg mumbles a wish for everyone's good rest, but his heart doesn't seem to be in it. With that he takes his leave and enters the main house. Taking Ragnar's cue, Norri also returns to his room.
Ciri accepts the key wordlessly to cover her fury at Oleg's attitude, checks the number on the key, and retires to her room for the night. She locks the room door and puts a chair against it, just in case Grub can pick locks.
Before she retires, she double-checks all her gear to be certain it's ready for the next day's battle. She remains in her armor. One cannot trust bandit schedules.
"Aye, fire... that would do the trick wouldn't it."
The sun finally making its last hurrah dipping below the horizon, the light fleeing over the treetops.
"We should get some sleep. I'm not entirely sure when the bandits will be arriving and I'd rather not have them catch me with my head on the pillow. Good night Ciri, see you in the morning."
Ragnar walks along the palisade and into the room he shares with Arielle. At the sound of the door opening she turns over.
"Little One. Tomorrow there will be some bad men coming to the trading post. You have nothing to fear, myself and some of the others staying here will take care of them. You however need to stay bundled up in bed away. I don't want any accidents and who knows what would happen if they found you. I won't hear anything against it now go to bed."
Ragnar sits in a chair in the corner, running the whetstone along his weapons. First his axe, the knicks and cuts being smoothed and sharpened. Then his bastard sword, the oil fresh along the blade. He finishes with his small belt dagger and nods off in the chair.
Ragnar sleeps.
Arielle also sleeps. She exudes that peaceful calm sleeping children create that has made adults smile for centuries.
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Ciri finally allows herself to drift off and dreams of fire and blood, most of it somebody else's.
The morning comes and everyone feels like they have been asleep for days. Apparently, whatever spices Svetlana had used in that stew really helped to get some nice deep rest. Oleg comes around knocking on the various doors to advise that a light breakfast will be available. The bandits usually come in the late morning to allow any traveling merchants that may be visiting time to have moved on down the road.
@Ragnar: The young girl is up before Ragnar and seems much happier than the previous day. She smiles at Ragnar shyly when he opens his eyes, hugging her bear to her chest.
@Ciri: Ciri wakes in her small room alone to Oleg's knocking and gruff voice.
Ciri awakens groping for a dagger to hurl at the door, then groans when she remembers leaving it stuck in the ribs of an overly-fresh half orc.
Maybe Oleg has one I could buy with my... complete lack of funds.
"I'm awake! Be right out," she rasps at Oleg, rolling out of her cot to thump on to the floor. Scruffing her hair and gathering her gear, she slouches out to the common area, grabs a bit of whatever is offered for breakfast, and pulls a leather-bound book from her pack. Dumping it open on the table, she studies it while gnawing on breakfast. Anybody who comes near during the next hour is greeted with a grunted "go 'way." Finally she slams the book shut, puts it away, and chirps, "Good morning! Lovely day for mayhem!" to anyone who is near.
"Awake early little one!" Ragnar stands and stretches, he feels as if he has been asleep in the chair for eons, a statue carved from resolute stone and left to weather the ages. At hearing Oleg's suggestion of a 'light' breakfast, "Oh, I hope it is more than light, I am starved! Come little one, let us get some breakfast then back up to the room with you!"
Ragnar leaves the majority of his gear upstairs, taking his axe and shield to stash under table until the bandits show.
Breakfast is some skillet cooked eggs, milk, some oats for a milk-mash, honey for the mash, left over bread, and of course some some left over meat which has been heavily salted to keep it from spoiling.
As Ragnar and the child take seats at the tables to eat, Oleg is on a short ladder unhooking the tarp from the poles. When he finishes, he unceremoniously dumps the tarp into a pile and comes and sits down next to Ragnar and the girl. Oleg picks at a splinter on the table, glances sidelong at Ragnar, and then grunts. The girl watches him with wide eyes and remains silence while continuing to spoon her honey, oat, and milk-mash into her mouth.
There is no doubt he is wanting to say something, but doesn't have the words.
Oleg looks at Ragnar again, but doesn't speak. Then he eyes the little girl and blurts, "So, lass, I never have had your name."
Ciri glances at the little group and continues reading her spellbook, chewing on the regrettably-not-quite-jerky.
Ragnar is oblivious to anything but Oleg's... Well, he can't quite put his finger on it.
Ragnar munches down multiple eggs, as many as he can find.
"Mmmm a hearty meal! My thanks to you and your woman Oleg."
The girl stops eating at the statement/question, the spoon halfway to her mouth. She stares at Oleg for a minute then looks at Ragnar with wide eyes.
Unexpectedly she shoos her hand at the teddy bear sitting on the table next to her bowl.
"Shhh, Bubbles," the girl says softly.
Oleg grumbles something under his breath a the young one's response. Then he clears his throat.
"I...I," he pauses for a moment. Then in a rush Oleg says, "I want to help you." His mouth works awkwardly without sound. He looks down at his hands.
"But...but I'm no fighter. If I would be in your way...I..." Oleg's eyes seem guarded and his mouth draws a hard line. "I understand...but don't be thinking I wouldn't try." The last is said with force, almost a growl.
Ragnar looks up beaming. "Aye if you would help I'd be glad for it. If you're worried about being in our way you ought to be." Ragnar scoots over closer to Oleg and motions with his finger on the table the layout of the coming fight. "First, go into that stockroom of yours, I saw what you had available, arm yourself, a shield and axe, or maybe a spear! To keep them at length ya see? And a couple of those potions, I want ya to have them at the ready, all this put just inside the door of whatever building your woman and Little One will be hiding in. So, when the bandits show and we close the gates, run into that doorway and hold off any bandits from making their way into the woman and child. You'll be holding down a defensive position aye-" Ragnar shoves another egg down in his maw, "-and if you see any of us in the courtyard get pressed into trouble, perhaps even we look like we're nearing Death's door, well if you could run out and give 'em a potion that would be much welcome." Ragnar puts his hand on the man's shoulder. "Most importantly is keeping the others safe and out of harms way, you can do that?"
"That's a good idea!" Ciri says with some surprise and a mouth full of breakfast, "Maybe you'd be a decent king after all."
Ragnar turns to Ciri, "I should hope so! If it is my fate."
Am I really to be king? Is it meant to be or am I imposing my right? It is a bit presumptuous, and to hear her say it as if it is known already, I, Ragnar son of Ragnar am to be a king in these lands. I have the writ from Brevoy, it is in motion, yes...I am meant to be a king... or die in the attempt.
"Now let's finish our breakfast. There are men to kill this day."
Ciri nods at Ragnar and returns to her room, there to secure the precious spellbook. She stashes her gear, except for weapons, armor, and spell component pouch, locking the door behind her.
Exiting the in, she sizes up the men. "We should get things ready: the stock secured in the barn, doors closed, and the wagon into position. Get the big stuff done before they arrive, hmm?" She drags the tarp over to the wagon and stashes it there, hoping it looks normal, then searches around for good-sized rocks to chock the wheels, expecting that Olag, Ragnar, Subotai, Norri, and Grub will hop to the rest.
Finishing the remainder of his breakfast and washing it down with a swig of small beer.
"Aye, let's." Ragnar motions for Subotai and Norri to finish their preparations and get ready.
"The bandits should come any minute now..."
"We better make sure we're ready when they get here. You should get... your little one... inside and secure, along with Svetlana. Subodai, Grub, and I need to get to our perches, and you and Norri try to look normal, Ragnar."
Ciri checks the front gates to be certain they will swing closed easily and can be barred, ensures the wagon wheels are chocked, then takes her bow out and climbs to the parapet. She lies flat on the walkway where she can't be seen from the gate.
Ragnar ushers Arielle and Svetlana inside.
"Now, you two stay up here in this room. Your man Oleg is going to guard the door. Don't worry, he should be well out of harms way, but we need to make sure you two stay safe as well. You will not come downstairs for any reason, do you understand?" Ragnar looks directly at Arielle with the question. "These are bad men, and they mean to do us and these kind folks harm. I, we, will stop them." He pinches her nose and walks down stairs.
Stretching at the door, he looks for Oleg.
"Oleg? Make sure your spear and shield are tucked out of sight. I'm sure they won't suspect anything. Norri, let's have a drink, maybe a roll of dice?"
The little girl looks up at Ragnar with big eyes and a serious expression. When he pinches her nose, she scrunches up her face and playfully bats at Ragnar's hand.
"Don't worry, pretty man. If you get in trouble, Bubbles will come save you!" She holds up her teddy bear. It looks almost pitiful with its missing eye.
Svetlana lets out a quiet sound and places a hand on the girl's shoulder. Looking down at the her head, Svetlana's eyes filled with a gentleness upon hearing the orphan's words. She looks at Ragnar, and he can see a fierceness form in her gaze.
"I won't let any harm come to her. You have my word," the older woman says.
'How long since they found me?' For Ali, time never really mattered, days merged into seasons as he was born and lived in the wilds.
His thoughts go back;
The burning heat as his shack burnt down, walking through the woods, the hunger gnawing at his stomach.
Finally being able to go on no more, awaiting death in the bole of the old oak. Then came along, and at once he knew death would not be slow sleep into but a quick thrust of steel and pain. His life-blood gushing out, to feed the forest floor - if he was lucky.
Ali wanted to live, feebly his batted the rough hands away as they searched his emaciated form. But as the flesh was contacted he felt the man's life essence and instinctively he threw his entire being and energy at it. The healing powers rolled over the assailant and the last thing Ali heard was an exuberant cry "The scrawny lads a healer, boys..."
A sharp yank on the rough hemp rope about his neck brought him back into the present. Ali tries to block the pain, where it has rubbed the skin raw. The sour smell of the captors' roiled in his stomach, trying to force the meagre food to rebel. Though none too clean himself at least he was the fresh smell of dirt, not stale beer and sweat.
Ciri lies flat on the parapet walk amusing herself by watching the clouds drift by and dreaming. Maybe I can make this Northerner into a king, since it's what he wants to be. It would be better to be the power behind the throne anyway. Then when we begin diplomatic relationships with other kingdoms... I strike! The though teases an involuntary smile from her lips, though it's such an unpleasant one that it's just as well nobody can see it but the clouds.
Time seems to pass slowly. Everyone's nerves are on edge, wound tight as the prospect of blood being spilled looms on the horizon. Oleg sits in a stool just outside the main house's door endlessly polishing a mug with a rag. The sight of him the armor and a weapon close at hand seems odd. There is just no threat emanating from him. Svetlana has both her hands on the young girl's shoulders who clutches the bear and stares expressionless from the doorway out onto the roadway through the open gate. The older woman stands behind the girl and looms over her as if to protect her from the weight of the future.
Clouds seem to drift overhead and begin piling into thick fluffy bursts. The chances of spring rain later this afternoon begins to increase. Just like the tension around the Wilderness Trade.
But then in the distance, hoof beats...
After what feels like forever, five horses and three donkeys come stepping into the Wilderness Trade's courtyard. Four men who look rough-and-tumble and an ugly women who is stocky like a man are riding the horses. A hooded figure rides one donkey while leading another which seems to have a figure in ragged clothing and a dirty cloak draped half over it. The figure's head is covered by a sack and lays draped over the saddle like the potatoes that the sack used to hold. The other donkey carries only several empty saddlebags.
One man with a sneer and a scar takes note of Ragnar and Norri sitting at the tables. He gestures and a couple of the men drop off their horses and swagger in their direction. One leans on one of the tarp poles while the other too casually looks them over, most likely to determine if trying to relieve them of their belongings would be worth the trouble.
The scarred man calls out, "Oleg! Where you at? You hiding from your pal, Happs? Or did that frigid wife of yours finally decide to let you warm her up?"
There is some scattered laughter from his men. Happs is looking around the area trying to locate the "tribute" they are there to pickup.
Svetlana had pulled the young orphan inside at the sound of the hooves on the road, and Oleg is still sitting by the partially open door. His nervousness shows on his face since once he shows himself armored and armed, he knows there won't be any way to go back.
Ragnar's nerves are shot from the long wait. It has been an eternity since breakfast, weeks at the very least and now here they are. Time for the adventure to truly begin!
"Now" Ragnar yells pulling his axe and shield from next to the table. Arming himself as he stands and turns to face the bandits.
The bandits simply look at the now fully armed Ulfen warrior in shock. Resistance? They don't even understand what's happening. Yet.
Ciri has dozed off and vaguely realizes that Ragnar is yelling something. Of course, that's hardly unusual. Oh, wait. Bandits!
Brother Norri stands from the table with his weapon out.
"Welp, that wasn't what I hadin mind!"
Subotai stands and nocks an arrow.